


Happier Than I Deserve

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Canon, Strangers to Lovers, giving neglected minor characters a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: After the events of Sword and Pen, Celia Brightwell is starting a new life. She's separated from her abusive husband, Callum. She's determined to be a better mother to Jess. Thanks to Jess and his Library connections, Celia is opening the first legal bookstore in London.To get her store off the ground, Celia will have to work with the Library, but that isn't so bad when the Library is represented by the lovely Naomi Ebele. Not that Celia is looking for another relationship. Not that Naomi could possibly be interested in anything more than business.(To be updated extremely irregularly, I'm sure)
Relationships: Celia Brightwell/Naomi Ebele
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "If you think me in a way to be happier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion." - Jane Austen, Emma  
> "I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve." - Jane Austen, Persuasion

With the keys to her new bookstore in her pocket, Celia climbed the steps of the London Serapeum for the first time in years. The old building bore the scars of the war in scorch marks on its stone and scaffolding up its sides, but it stood with its doors wide open to welcome patrons. It felt unimaginably strange to think of herself as one of them.

To Celia’s relief, the automata that used to patrol the grounds were gone. All destroyed or irreparably damaged in the battle with Wales, and no new ones sent thanks to the new treaty with the Great Library. There was still a small contingent of High Garda soldiers on patrol. Celia gave them a wide berth. One of her sons might have worn that uniform, but that didn’t overcome the fact that her other two sons’ killers had worn it, too.

The guards at the doors paid her no mind, and she passed through into the main hall without incident. No surprise there, regardless of what her paranoia said. Even before Jess and his friends upended the world, Celia had been the thin veneer of respectability over Callum’s criminal empire. She’d always had plausible deniability, never even knew where he hid his illicit goods. That didn’t make her any less aware of the power the Library held. Even now.

On the inside, too, the Serapeum showed signs of the battle that had torn through it. What little Celia could see of the ceiling was blackened by smoke. Most was covered by scaffolds where workers labored at the daunting task of restoring the building’s beautiful ceilings. New bookshelves stood out from rows of older ones, some of those singed as well. The floor, at least, appeared to be in good shape, its black and white tiles polished to a shine. Even damaged, the hall was an impressive sight, a cavernous space filled with priceless books and art. St. Paul’s Serapeum had been built to inspire awe, and Celia found that she was not immune to its effects.

Nor was she ignorant of the possibilities for setting up an ambush in such an ornate space, especially with the added cover of the scaffolding. The soldiers who had been so obvious outside the Serapeum blended into the background within, but when she looked for them, Celia spotted them. So, too, did she spot the kinds of people Callum would have called cousins. Hard to tell where she stood with any of them in this new world. It was enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck and quicken her step.

At the end of the hall, the Senior Librarian’s desk stood empty. A pair of robed figures, one dressed in shadowy black and the other wearing the tan of the Egyptian sands, stood at a shelf beside it. A Scholar and a Librarian. As she drew nearer, Celia was surprised to see that the black-robed man was Scholar Wolfe, Jess’s mentor. Father. Jess called Wolfe his father now.

Celia didn’t want to know what he called Callum. She wanted not to care.

Scholar Wolfe and the woman who had to be the Senior Librarian turned as Celia approached, and Wolfe stepped forward to greet her.

Though she knew the answer already, Celia couldn’t help but ask, “Scholar, is Jess…?”

Wolfe shook his head. “He’s held up in America, sadly. The negotiations there have been… contentious. Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Brightwell.”

The use of the name rankled, but she kept her face neutral. God knew she had practice enough at that. “Please, call me Celia,” she replied, offering her hand.

“Celia. Of course.” What might have been a smile flickered at the corners of Wolfe’s mouth, there and gone before Celia could be sure she’d seen it. He took her hand and kissed it. A true gentleman, that one. She might have been tempted, had she not already had quite enough of men.

What a silly thought. He already had a husband of his own, or close enough to it. More of a husband than she’d ever had, really.

“But you aren’t here to trade pleasantries with me,” Wolfe said. Releasing Celia’s hand, he gestured to the Librarian beside him. “Allow me to introduce Senior Librarian Naomi Ebele, who is taking charge of this Serapeum.”

Turning to offer her hand to the Senior Librarian, Celia got her first real look at the woman. Her first impression was of height. Taller than Scholar Wolfe, Naomi Ebele towered over Celia, which admittedly wasn’t particularly hard to do. Height never had been one of Celia’s strong points. Dressed in the formal robes of a Senior Librarian accented by gleaming gold jewelry, Librarian Ebele might have been an imposing figure if not for the warm smile on her dark brown face.

That smile, which carried up to eyes like topazes, had Celia’s heart fluttering like a schoolgirl’s as she took the Senior Librarian’s hand. She hadn’t realized she still had that in her. Hadn’t felt anything like it since before she had the misfortune of meeting Callum Brightrwell.

She’d certainly never felt anything fluttery over  _ him _ . Even in the beginning, their marriage hadn’t been built on love.

“Pleased to meet you, Celia,” the Senior Librarian said. A hint of an accent in her voice, along with her dark coloring and the tight curl of her short, graying hair, spoke of African heritage, though where, exactly, Celia couldn’t say. She’d never known much about the world beyond England.

“The pleasure is mine, Senior Librarian,” Celia said, meaning it far more than she’d expected to.

“You can call me Naomi. Seems only fair if I’m using your name,” Naomi said with another of her heart-melting smiles. “If you’ll come with me, I have the figures on the print runs in my office, and a few sample books for you to look over. You’ll want a close look at those, I presume?”

“Yes, of course,” Celia said.

She’d thought Scholar Wolfe would join them, but he excused himself on some vague and urgent errand, leaving her alone with Naomi in a cluttered but cozy office. Bookshelves, most of them worse for wear, lined the walls and papers lay scattered over most of the surface of the desk. A single corner had been cleared to make room for a tea tray. The fragrant aroma of earl grey almost covered the smells of dust and old books, but not quite.

Naomi pulled out a padded chair in front of the desk for Celia. “I hope you’ll pardon the mess. Ever since we signed the new treaty with England, it’s been a scramble to get things in order.” she said. She had to squeeze past Celia to get to her own seat on the other side of the desk; a mere moment of contact, but it didn’t at all help Celia’s effort to stay focused on the job. 

“You should see the state of the bookstore. I had no idea renovating a shop would mean tearing the whole inside of it up” Celia said, shaking her head. Realizing belatedly how bad that might sound to a business partner, she added, “But I’m told it looks worse than it is. We’ll be opening on schedule, and the back room is already in shape to receive shipments.”

“Believe me, I understand.” Naomi settled into the armchair behind her desk and slid an open Blank across to Celia.

Spread out across the pages were lists in tight, neat handwriting. In English, not Greek, to Celia’s mild surprise. Each column listed books available for printing accompanied by costs and delivery times. A dizzying array of information. She'd never been allowed to see documents like these before, though Callum must have had them somewhere. In one of his locked cabinets, maybe, or in his warehouses. 

"Would you like me to go over it all for you?" Naomi's voice shook Celia from the cloud of numbers.

She'd been staring at the page like an idiot, hadn't she? What an excellent impression to make on a Librarian, of all people. "I, um… You see..." Try as she might, no plausible excuse came to mind.

"Jess said you might need a little assistance."

Celia's head snapped up. "You know my son?"

That shouldn’t have surprised her. Half the Great Library seemed to know Jess. It was difficult to reconcile the reclusive boy she’d known with the outgoing young man he’d become. She’d always thought he preferred books to people. But that, too, must have been Callum’s fault.

"We met in Oxford," Naomi said, as if that explained a great deal more than Celia quite understood. Another of the many things Jess didn’t talk about, probably. "And a few times since, most recently to discuss the Library's role in this endeavor. You raised a good man." She smiled with that last addition. 

"Thank you," Celia said, though she wasn't entirely certain she deserved the credit.

“He told me you weren’t involved in the day-to-day operations of your family’s…” A second’s hesitation, and a pinched expression on Naomi’s face. Distaste or discomfort? Celia couldn’t tell; she was accustomed to it, regardless. “...previous business. Now, this bookselling business is as new to me as it is to you, but I’ve been running Serapeums for most of my life, so I know a thing or two about bookkeeping. We’ll be learning this together, won’t we?”

That smile again. It made it hard to be upset that Jess had already told the Senior Librarian so much, when she smiled like that. Like she was genuinely glad to be working with Celia.

“Yes, I suppose we will,” Celia said, smiling back as she looked into Naomi’s warm brown eyes. She might not trust the kindness she saw there to be entirely genuine, but she didn’t have to trust Naomi to enjoy looking at her. After so many wasted years as a good and dutiful wife, Celia figured she’d earned the right to indulge in a little harmless flirtation. Nothing would come of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right at the very end of Femslash February, for some time zones, at least. A first kiss.
> 
> More to come. Eventually.

EPHEMERA

**A message sent via Codex from Senior Librarian Naomi Ebele to Scholar Christopher Wolfe. Marked private.**

_ You think you’re clever, don’t you, Wolfe? I see what you’re trying to do. _

**A message sent via Codex from Scholar Christopher Wolfe to Senior Librarian Naomi Ebele. Marked private.**

_ I have not the slightest idea what you could mean. Please, enlighten me. _

**A message sent via Codex from Senior Librarian Naomi Ebele to Scholar Christopher Wolfe. Marked private.**

_ You set up that meeting. You ducked out at the last minute. You think I don’t know why? She’s beautiful, and I am grateful for the introduction, but she’s married. _

**A message sent via Codex from Scholar Christopher Wolfe to Senior Librarian Naomi Ebele. Marked private.**

_ As I said, I had matters of security to discuss with Captain Vickers. I know nothing of your romantic inclinations, nor of hers, nor do I care to. I assure you, nothing could be further from my mind. _

_ As for your last point, marital status can change. I have met her husband. If ever a man has deserved to be on the receiving end of a divorce decree, that man is Callum Brightwell. _

* * *

Two weeks of repairs. Two weeks of walking through dusty air and watching the gutted corpse of a shop return to life with bookshelves lining the walls and display cases arrayed across the floor. Two weeks of watching the back room fill with crate after crate of books, each volume stamped with the twin seals of her son’s press and the Great Library’s new Liberius division.

Two weeks of tea with Naomi Ebele, four visits to the Serapeum in all. There had been a lot to talk about. Print runs to order, inventory to discuss, prices to haggle. She had a feeling Naomi had let her off easy on that last one. The Library would be entitled to a small cut of every sale to finance its growing printing operations and the commissioning of new works. The printer would be paid the cost of materials and labor plus a percentage of the sale price. The rest would be Celia’s to keep. It could be a staggering amount if she took Jess’s advice on pricing. If all the books sold.

There was, Celia was given to understand from conversations with Naomi and Jess, some debate on that last question. People might be eager to finally buy books of their own, but they might also fear the change after so many years under the Doctrine of Ownership. Some might even suspect this shop to be a baited trap set by the High Garda to capture anyone foolish enough to think the Library’s control might be waning.

It was in effort to allay those fears that Naomi would be visiting the bookstore tonight. She would deliver a formal decree signed by the Archivist herself - how strange to think the quiet, sad girl who had accompanied Jess to Castle Raby now sat on that throne - and a certificate from the Liberius division designating Celia as an approved bookseller.

Celia hoped Naomi might stay a while once that official business was attended to. She had come to enjoy Naomi’s company even more than expected, delighting in not only the Senior Librarian’s lovely face, but also her stories of her childhood in Nigeria and education in Alexandria. And her travels. Celia liked those stories best of all. Naomi had seen places Celia had not even known existed, let alone dreamed of visiting, and it never ceased to amaze Celia that Naomi would voluntarily settle in England after all of that. She’d always thought her own country dull and wet, but Naomi spoke in delighted tones of fog and rain and English literature.

After years of Callum’s mocking over her love of Jane Austen, Celia had been shocked to hear Naomi name  _ Pride and Prejudice _ as a favorite without a hint of embarrassment. Even more shocked to learn that Scholars praised Austen’s innovations in storytelling.

That conversation had prompted Celia to set up the display of English romances she was now fussing with as she waited for Naomi to arrive. She ran her fingers over the covers, fine leather and cheap paper to offer something for readers of all means. Classics like  _ Emma _ and  _ Jane Eyre _ had the most prominent placement, but she’d dedicated space to the newer titles Jess recommended as well. To her surprise, she’d actually enjoyed most of them, particularly the American one he’d smuggled out of Philadelphia.  _ Rose Red, Sea Blue. _ There it was, at the end of the shelf. She turned the three copies to face the cover outward, showing off the woodcut image of a pirate ship that adorned it. That ought to catch customers’ eyes.

At the chime of the bell on the door, Celia started. Heart pounding, she whirled around, only to feel foolish when she spotted Naomi in the doorway, folding an umbrella.

Catching sight of Celia, Naomi’s brows drew together. “Oh, I’ve given you a fright, haven’t I? I should have knocked. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s all right, really. I had the open sign up for a reason, didn’t I?” Celia smiled, half real warmth and half a practiced cover. She didn’t want Naomi thinking she was a basket case, after all. “Here, let me take your coat.”

It was, Celia noticed now that she was done being silly, a very lovely coat. Wool dyed the red of the prettiest autumn leaves, knee-length and tailored to fit Naomi’s tall and slender figure very well indeed. She was so used to seeing Naomi in Librarian’s robes that it was something of a surprise to see her out of uniform, and in something so colorful, no less. It suited her.

Even more stunning, however, was what Naomi wore beneath the coat. Somehow, in Celia’s mind, there had always been a dress beneath those Librarian’s robes, something as English as Naomi’s taste in tea and novels. This was not a dress. In fact, Celia was not entirely certain what to call it. A tunic, perhaps, in a style that might have been from Asia, though Celia could not have guessed where exactly. Golden yellow silk with a high collar and long sleeves, belted at the waist with a sash as red as the coat. The trousers beneath were a plainer shade of brown, but cut slim enough to make the shape of Naomi’s legs evident. 

The shape of other parts was evident, too, though the drape of the fabric, so unlike the concealing volume of a Librarian’s robe. Celia caught her eyes drifting in entirely inappropriate directions and wrenched her gaze up to Naomi’s face as she said, “Why don’t you have a look around while I go hang this up for you?”

“I would love to. Thank you,” Naomi replied, smiling.

Celia was probably imagining the twinkle in the Librarian’s eyes.

It took Celia hardly a minute to hang the coat on the rack in her office behind the store. A few minutes longer to compose herself, during which she paged through papers that she’d already organized earlier, feeling exceptionally foolish. It wasn’t as if breasts were mysterious things she had never seen before. For God’s sake, she’d seen enough beautiful women in low-cut gowns at the endless social functions that came with being a part of respectable society, and she’d never had the slightest difficulty keeping her admiration discreet. There was no reason at all to gape like an adolescent at a pair of fully covered ones.

Resolved to behave like the fully grown woman she was, Celia closed up her ledgers and returned to the shop.

She found Naomi at the display of romances, paging through a leather-bound edition of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . “I’m very fond of that one,” she said, coming to stand beside the taller woman. “The woodcut illustrations Jess commissioned for it are lovely.”

“That they are,” Naomi said, turning back a few pages to find an image of Pemberley, the house and grounds drawn in graceful black lines on the creamy paper. “Have I told you that this was why I wanted to come to England, back before I had my first assignment here? These beautiful old estates, these landscapes… Of course, once I got to Oxford, it was rather different, but I fell in love with it all the same.”

“Rainclouds and all?” Celia asked, smiling.

Naomi laughed. “Rainclouds  _ especially. _ You have no idea how refreshing a good drizzle is until you live a few years in the desert.” She closed the book and replaced it on the stack before bending to pick up the document case she’d left leaning against the side of the display. “Now then, I have the certificates from the Curia here, shall we find a place for them?”

That wasn’t the turn Celia would have preferred for the conversation to take, but of course Naomi wasn’t there for idle chatter. Naomi was there for business, as was Celia, and she would do well to remember that instead of dwelling on girlish fantasies.

It wasn’t so very difficult. Celia had plenty of practice at putting her feelings aside and doing what needed to be done. Keep Callum happy. Don’t coddle the boys so much. Be the respectable face of the family. At least now she was doing it for her own profit instead of Callum’s.

She hadn’t heard from him in weeks now, long enough that she didn’t know whether to be relieved that he’d finally decided to leave her alone or terrified that he was plotting some horrible retribution for her defiance. Maybe that was what had her so off balance, jumping at shadows and getting infatuated with a Librarian. Part of her knew the peace wouldn’t last and wanted to take advantage of it while it did.

What, exactly, that might involve, she couldn’t say. Nothing in her life of dutiful, respectable conduct gave any guidance as to how to run a bookshop and court a Librarian. Not that it would be a proper courtship, not while she remained married with divorce a hornet’s nest she feared to disturb. A clandestine affair, more likely, and she was being terribly presumptuous to imagine Naomi was interested in romance at all.

The way Naomi smiled and beckoned her closer to see the documents spread out across the counter was certainly suggestive. They were nearly hip to hip, looking down at pages framed in hieroglyph-inscribed gold. Celia’s skirts brushed Naomi’s legs, and her heart fluttered as if she’d touched the Librarian herself.

Naomi didn’t seem to notice. “So this one,” she said, indicating the sole handwritten page of the bunch, “is Archivist Seif’s decree authorizing the sale of printed books. I would recommend displaying it prominently, but also out of reach. There’s quite the secondhand market in these kinds of original documents.”

“Illicit shops?” Celia asked, examining the document. The Archivist had elegant handwriting. She’d written the whole thing in English, with Greek beneath, and her signature done in Arabic and hieroglyphs between the large golden Library seals at the bottom of the page. Even the paper itself was pretty, a creamy color with a faint pattern. No, not a pattern. “There’s something else written here.”

“It’s a palimpsest.” Celia said nothing to that, not wanting to admit she knew the word only as a descriptor of manuscripts her husband charged extra for, but Naomi must have been watching her closely enough to see her confusion, because the Librarian went on, “A parchment that’s been used before and scraped off to make room for something new. This one was a notice reminding Library patrons of the Doctrine of Ownership. Our new Archivist is fond of symbolism.”

Delightfully cheeky, Celia would call it, but it seemed inappropriate to speak that way of the Archivist, so Celia settled for giggling and saying, “What a clever way to make a statement. Let’s hang it over the counter here, high on the wall. Visible, but hard to snatch it away.”

“Yes, that will do nicely. I must admit, I’m fond of her style, yes. But to your earlier question, I would say more likely collectors than illicit shops. The point of all this, hard as it is to wrap my head around it all, is that selling books won’t be illicit anymore. As long as they’re selling printed books, they don’t need the Library’s permission. It’s in the new treaty.”

“But collectors will want something with the Archivist’s signature on it. Yes, I see.” Come to think of it, she’d never seen an original document signed by an Archivist before. The Library usually sent out its orders by Codex or using Blank sheets. Callum would have recognized the value right away.

Celia passed the hammer and nail she’d left out on the counter to Naomi. She had her hands on a chair, too, but stopped at the sight of Naomi already positioning the nail. How lucky she was to be so tall. And how beautiful those long arms and legs were.

With the Archivist’s decree in place, Celia reached for the next framed document. She’d meant to give it a quick look over and pass it to the Librarian, but at the sight of the signature at the bottom, her breath caught.

_ Jess Brightwell, Chief Printer. _

Strong, bold handwriting, large and proud. It was her son’s, no question, but so unlike the smaller, tighter writing of his letters to her. This was a Jess who wasn’t afraid to take up space on the page, one the Library knew better than she did.

And whose fault was that? Callum’s, she wanted to say, but when had she ever stood between Callum and her sons? She’d had to tread carefully, so carefully, and she couldn’t expect Jess to understand.

Like the one from the Archivist, this page was adorned with large golden seals and written in both English and Greek. Unlike that one, though, the words were printed rather than handwritten. Neat, precise letters in perfect, even lines, still strange to her eyes even after reading through so many printed books. 

“Have you heard from him recently? Jess, I mean?” Celia asked as she handed the page over to Naomi to be hung. 

“A note the other day to set up the Translation for the book shipment.” There was an odd look on Naomi’s face. Maybe just concentration as she drove the nail into place. “He’s already gone over all that with you, hasn’t he?”

That was more recent than his last letter to Celia, but she didn’t want to say so. Better to stick to business. “Yes, he did. It’s so much work, all of this. He seems so busy with it. I worry about him.” She heard the note of emotion that crept in on those last words and mentally scolded herself for the lapse.

But Naomi put a hand on Celia’s shoulder and said, very warmly, “Of course you do. But he’s in good hands in Alexandria, with Scholar Wolfe looking after him.”

Celia’s cheeks burned, and she wondered whether the greater embarrassment was the casual discussion of how a stranger made a better parent to her son than she did or the way a friendly touch made her skin buzz and tingle. Before she could mortify herself further, she said, “Yes. Yes, I know,” and turned to pick up the third document from the counter.

“That one should probably go in the front window,” Naomi said when Celia held the page out to her without so much as skimming it. “It’s a notice of the rules on book ownership under the new treaty. I have a stack of copies here that you can hand out, and we’ll be distributing them at the Serapeum as well. The Curia ruled we can’t advertise for you, but if anyone happens to ask, well, it is our duty to provide information.”

Somehow, the awkward moment passed, and Celia found herself smiling again. It helped, Celia thought, that Naomi never commented on the red of her face or the stammer in her voice. Instead, Naomi filled the space with commentary on how the Serapeum’s repairs were coming along and how her staff were handling the changes under the new treaty. Hilariously badly, in the case of one junior Librarian. Soon enough, they’d finished in the shop and retreated to the back office, where they reviewed the ledgers over a pot of tea that stretched into two as the conversation moved from accounting for books to discussing their plots.

All too soon, the tea ran out and the clock chimed an hour far too late for two women who needed to work in the morning. Celia saw Naomi to the door, and stood there, hands clasped, while Naomi buttoned her coat. It was such a pretty coat. The red of the wool complemented the brown of her skin so nicely.  


“Thank you for tonight,” Naomi said, taking a step closer to Celia.

To the door. The door right behind Celia, that she was supposed to be opening.

No. To Celia. To Celia, and taking her clasped hands to hold them between bodies that had grown so very close.

“You-you’re very welcome,” Celia managed to say, looking up at full, soft lips.

Naomi held her gaze for some dozen frantic heartbeats, as if waiting for something. As if…

Surely not that. It was only imagination. Fantasy. But Celia found herself rising onto her toes, her chin tilting up, and oh, how foolish she was going to feel when…

Naomi’s lips met hers, and for a moment, all thought ceased. Celia’s pulse pounded in her ears, and her fingers intertwined with Naomi’s, and her mouth opened to a kiss unlike any she’d ever had.

Kissing with Callum had been a perfunctory gesture of performed affection. Unpleasant, at best. This was something else entirely. This was the kind of kiss she’d thought an exaggeration of romance novels, the kind that had her breathless and fluttery and hot between the legs. She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to try it many more times, and to learn what else Naomi’s soft, gentle lips could do.

It was Naomi who ended it, sweetly as she’d started it, drawing back and bending to kiss both of Celia’s trembling hands. “Good night, Celia,” she said with another of her heart-melting smiles. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Yes,” Celia said, not even embarrassed that it came out half a sigh. “Yes, we really must.”

Naomi’s smile widened at that. “I’ll have my hands full at the Serapeum for a couple days, but if you aren’t too busy on Friday, perhaps we might have dinner?”

“Friday. Yes, I’d love to,” Celia said, barely holding back the girlish excitement bubbling within her.

“Then it’s a date. I’ll come by to pick you up after work.”

With that, Naomi departed, and Celia slumped against the wall, one hand clutched to her racing heart, the other tracing kiss-swollen lips. She could scarcely begin to put her thoughts in order.

She remembered to lock the door, though, and to turn out the lights on the way up to her bedroom above the shop. Her heart might be dancing about her chest as if she were some silly girl in a novel, but she was much too old and too practical to let herself get carried away with fantasies. Friday’s dinner was something to look forward to. She could be happy with that and not start dreaming of anything more.  



End file.
